


Tension

by indi_indecisive



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dildos, M/M, Robot Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 21:41:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indi_indecisive/pseuds/indi_indecisive
Summary: It's a funny story, really. Maybe when you custom make your strap-on's, you make sure that they stay on.





	Tension

Jesse comes home.

There’s a tension in his shoulders that’s familiar to the omnic, and still drives his curiosity. What happened today? Whose questions teetered and tattered off the tongue with enough carefree abandon that the gunslinger couldn’t shake them off his hackles? Who tried playing the cowboy like a fiddle?  

Still, Zenyatta’s grown accustomed to the gunslinger coming home this way. With just as much dirt and scuff on his boots as there was a grimace tugging at his lips, brows knitted in frustration, and an overbearing weight that couldn’t simply be exhaled. Breathing exercises don’t work in this frustration, they’ve tried before, and Jesse puts up with it until he can’t anymore; it might be the motto of the life they have together. Trying until he simply can’t anymore, even if it isn’t asked. He knows that the tension will settle in Jesse's’ gut and stew, until it comes bursting out in thick ropes into Zenyatta’s hole.

It was a sweet routine; it meant that he could help. 

His fingers worked away the tension settled in Jesse’s shoulders, and his soft pleasantries soothed him just enough that he did not look seconds away from exploding into a fight. Zenyatta can do more, wearing him down this way. With a gentle suggestion to move from the kitchen, where the gunslinger had taken to fuming as he makes himself a pot of coffee that’ll be halfway done and wasted when the butt end of a cigar is dropped carelessly into it, to the bedroom; he nudges him with the back of his hand, his long fingers trailing feather-light across his shoulders, and even offering a swaying hip bump to get him moving to where Zenyatta wanted him to be. 

Mostly beneath him, squirming, panting. 

Zenyatta knows the tension needs to come out someway or another, and Jesse fights himself on doing it this way. Does Zenyatta want to do this, is he forcing him to? 

He asks himself these questions nearly every time, but still falls to the bed onto his back with his legs spread wide, Zenyatta’s fingers rubbing and prodding at his hole with a well practice preparation method. He uses more lube that necessary, always cautious about the grooves of his metallic fingers … but he knows well enough that Jesse liked the obstruction of it; just human enough and just foreign enough that his cock could get hard in a matter of seconds without old age slowing him down, or maybe it was the intimacy and the sweetness of Zenyatta cooing above him that really worked him up. Neither of them would address it later, so it does not matter now. Zenyatta’s already two fingers deep when Jesse’s flushed face starts to sweat, and a third makes him cry out in desperation, fingers curling into the sheets below him, begging with all the charisma he can muster for more. 

“Darling, sweetheart. Don’t I deserve something more than just your fingers?” 

And of course he deserved more than just Zenyatta’s fingers. Jesse’s always been good at saying the right things to get Zenyatta flustered, his facial plate heating with a sort of embarrassment where he feels like a terrible host. Jesse was upset, he could take foreplay, but he needed something to really distract him from himself, and fingers were not going to cut it. 

Now, Zenyatta’s cock was something special.

Special only because it was custom made for Jesse McCree himself. It wasn’t decked out with outlandish features, it could vibrate, but beyond that it was more on the ‘ vanilla ‘ side of the sexual spectrum. It was large though, perfect to rail the cowboy into the mattress. Perfect, because Jesse wanted it to be rough, and Zenyatta can tell by the way Jesse gripped his sides, where the pressure was killing and near denting his frame. 

Zenyatta was more than happy to give. 

When Jesse gets tensed like this, Zenyatta’s pace is absolutely brutal and exhausting. Jesse can barely hear anything above his own heavy breathing, the stomach heating squelches of a lubed asshole being pounded into, and his own ballsack bouncing. Hell! as his fingers curled into the stray wires along Zenyatta’s back, tugging and twisting to give the omnic some pleasure, he does not notice Zenyatta’s pace had slowed down and eventually stopped. He was close, so damn close, and he finds himself clenching around the cock in his ass,  panting and barely able to raise his head from the mattress. 

“Zenyatta?” Jesse’s voice was hoarse, it seemed he needed an entire pitcher of water to get rid of the scratch at the back of his throat. 

Had he been screaming? 

“I … Jesse … “ There was hesitance in his voice, something that Jesse hadn’t heard before. He furrows his brow, and let’s Zenyatta speak, if only to catch his breath. “I … It appears that my dick has broken off in your ass.” 

For a moment there was silence, and it takes a moment for him to process everything. It’s only when he has enough strength to push himself up by the his elbows, and it does take a minute to get his breath back once he sat up, that he looks between them to see that Zenyatta wasn’t lying. Not that he had expected the omnic to lie to him, ever. 

Zenyatta was dickless. 

His dick was in Jesse’s ass. 

“Oh … Well, is it supposed to do that?” Jesse brought humor to a situation that seemed more stressful than it should have been, and he sees the way Zenyatta’s shoulders slacken a little, his head cocked to the side. There’s tension leaving him too, he’d been afraid. 

“I … No, it is not.”

“Then we’ll just have to make do.” 


End file.
